For those who don't know, I actually have a younger brother named Deji. He's 12 years old and we used to fight like cats and dogs, but now I can tolerate him in small doses. Since I'm 20, there's almost a decade between us. The 8 year age difference impacts us in multiple ways. We can't relate to most pop culture references, I'm focused on grad school while I'm pretty sure he doesn't even know what grad school is. Also, the 8 year difference means that my parents have A LOT less energy when it comes to having conversations with my brother. Which isn't their fault. I think that's normal with all parents.
However, now that I'm home I've noticed my brother making statements that have been troubling to me. When trying to explain systematic oppression to my dad, I heard Deji grumbling in the background saying that I was being mean to White people when I talked about White Privilege. I've heard Deji complain about White people not being able to use the n-word. He's asked why people in Ferguson are "rioting" and said that "black cops kill white people all of the time."
It's not Deji's fault though. We live in a society that is founded on these thoughts. As pro-black as his sister is, he can't escape the impact of white supremacy. It's not his fault. It's the system's fault. However, I don't think that he should been thought of as a lost cause.
I think it's very easy for parents to hear their kids make statements like this, and brush it off as something they'll learn about later in life. It shouldn't be like that. Internalized racism is something that takes years to unlearn, and can impact the lives of people of color greatly.
I'm a prime example. I'm significantly darker in complexion than my mom, and I have always had coarse afro-textured hair. Starting from the age of 5 I was made to believe that my hair was unprofessional and undesirable, and in order to be "pretty", I must keep it straight. I think most Black women can relate to this kind of thinking. This started an unhealthy relationship with my hair and self-confidence that still impacts me to this day. My skin-tone is something that I've been taught makes me ugly or undesirable to all men. I didn't stop getting teased for it until Senior year of high school. I remember looking in the mirror and wishing I could just be a teeny bit lighter, so a boy could finally like me.
All of these things will obviously have a negative impact on a girl's self-esteem. Especially a little black girl that lives in a society that only values Euro-centric beauty standards. Sometimes I didn't want to hear my mom reminding me that I was special just the way I was. Sometimes I didn't want to hear that my classmates were jealous of me.
But I also didn't know what I needed to hear. All of these compliments and reassurances felt hollow and dry but at the age of 16 I couldn't figure out why.
Fast forward to the age of 20, and I'm a self-proclaimed social justice warrior. I'm able to articulate what exactly I did want to hear from my mother. I wanted to hear that we lived in a White supremacist society. I wanted to hear that colorism has been used as a tool to fuel oppression for years. I wanted to hear that nothing was wrong with my hair, other than the fact that it didn't resemble White hair. I wanted to hear that the other Brown girls in my class were just regurgitating the same BS force-fed to them since they popped out of the womb. I wanted to hear that it would be difficult for me to find my self-confidence and appreciate my beauty, but eventually it would be possible after years of correcting harmful thoughts ingrained in me for years.
But of course I didn't hear that. My mother is a nice lady but she is not a social justice warrior. She's an HR manager. She doesn't have the tools to even begin to make those statements because it's not something presented to her often. And that's not her fault but it also isn't mine. I'm left with picking up the pieces and grasping to find some level of confidence just like she had to, and my grandmother had to do before.
I think every teenager goes through their rebellious period. Some turn to drugs or alcohol, or sex. However, my form of rebellion is activism. I think most of my friends who want to be involved with social justice feel the same. This stuff is so serious, but so interesting, we really don't understand how anyone could not be passionate about it. It's awesome going to panels and listening to people's views. You get so fired up and you're ready to have more intellectual discussions! It's not that awesome going home and listening to your family make i uninformed statements that go completely against your views. It's hard to draw the line between disrespecting your parents, and actually educating them on something that you clearly know more about. It can lead to you feeling disheartened, and misunderstood.
Who knows what will happen to Deji in the future? Maybe my parents will educate him about police brutality and racial profiling, or maybe they won't. Maybe hearing me talk about racism and seeing me going to protests will lead Deji to open his mind and realize that he can't always listen to his brain-washed peers. Or maybe Deji won't do anything at all. Maybe he'll continue to believe that Black people are responsible for racism against them, and maybe he'll believe in respectability politics.
All I know is, if I have a say in anything, that can't happen. I refuse to sit and watch my brother fall victim to internalized racism. Because I know that at the end of the day, when it comes to police brutality, his respectability politics will not save him.
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